


Doppelgänger

by Vermiglione



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Dark Victor Nikiforov, I don't want to add too much, If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, M/M, Magic, Past Relationship(s), Rating May Change, Soulmates, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Yuuri idealizes Victor, but let's say Victor needs to respect other people's boundaries, kind of, more or less, our three main characters make bad decisions, you will see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28940667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vermiglione/pseuds/Vermiglione
Summary: He was almost too embarassed to admit it even to himself, but the thought had never crossed his mind -that Victor could look at him with anything but a fond smile, clear blue eyes brimming with affection. Not because he had no reason to, quite the contrary, Yuuri was well aware of it, but because in his memories Victor's core essence was so pure, Yuuri had always thought him incapable of true resentment.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Kudos: 10





	Doppelgänger

Yuuri was straightening his shirt for the umpteenth time, somehow feeling Yuri's annoyed glare more than the fabric sliding against his fingers, when the door suddenly opened.  
The guard, a man in his forties who had the most common of features (a trait shared by all guards, for some reason, or maybe it was the uniform, or maybe Yuuri's way of distracting himself from his growing anxiety was nitpicking irrelevant information), escorted them towards the room where, after weeks of fruitless attempts, they had been at last allowed to meet with the prince's second in command. His right hand man. His advisor. His lover, some said. He might very well have been all those things, maybe a prince in his own right, since Yuuri had been informed by multiple sources that the prince took no decision whatsoever without first consulting the man they were about to meet. (' _It's not consulting, it's basically asking for permission. This prince is a fuckin joke_ ' had been Yuri's lapidary comment on the likes of the prince.)

Yuuri's anxiety had been growing by the second, the kind of anxiety which stems not from a legitimate reason, but from an inexplicable sense of vague foreboding, and it finally exploded right on the room's threshold, where it collapsed right at the bottom of Yuuri's stomach, sliding down his ankles and making it almost impossible to walk inside the room. Yuri, ever the self-assured of the two, stepped inside without hesitation, but something stopped him dead in his tracks.  
His silence unnerved Yuuri.  
The younger boy quickly recovered from whatever had caused his sudden shock, and swiftly moved to the side to let Yuuri in.

  
Once inside, he noticed a few things. The room was large, lavish, full of flowers and luxurious ornaments, with a low coffee table at the centre, two velvet armchairs on one side and a big Imperial sofa on the other, with Victor leisurely sitting on it.

Yuuri would have liked to turn to Yuri, wanted to meet his gaze and ask him what on earth was happening, wanted to do so with an urgency made stronger by the crippling anxiety that had climbed up his joints and was now making it impossible for him to look away from Victor, but he was unable to.

He couldn't possibly look away from him.  
It was Victor.

Different from the last time they'd seen each other (thankfully, because their last interaction had been all sorts of ugly and sad and cruel), but it was unmistakably him.  
He was older, of course he was. Three years had passed. His features were sharper now, having lost the endearing roundness of his late teenage years in favour of a more elegant, seductive structure. His hair, too, was different: much shorter, well above the shoulders, with a silver lock falling over his left eye.  
It took some time for Yuuri to realize that having Victor sitting in front of him shouldn't have been his main concern, rather the fact that Victor was apparently the infamous advisor of the prince.  
The man they were supposed to talk into a collaboration, if not an allegiance.  
On the one hand, they knew their endeavor was bound to be of epic proportions, considering the prince's renown diffidence, but on the other, it was Victor. Lovely Victor. Enthusiastic, caring. Such a sweet little thing, so beautiful. Left heartbroken. Maybe the poor creature wasn't the same anymore. How could he be? But maybe, maybe he could make an exception...

"Sit down" said Victor, gesturing towards the chairs in front of him.

' _No "please" and no greetings_ ' registered Yuuri, slightly alarmed.  
They both sat down without a word. A waiter appeared out of nowhere, bringing a tray with a tea set and some sweets, and disappeared after serving it. It would have been easy then to turn to Yuri and ask him, silently, what was happening, what were they supposed to do, but once again he couldn't manage to shift his gaze from Victor.  
He was, objectively, stunning.  
He was wearing a white ruffle blouse, slightly opened at the front, with black trousers and high boots. He wasn't exactly disheveled, but Yuuri could tell he wasn't prepared for a formal meeting. Which was, once again, slightly alarming. Was he so blasé about this encounter because of their shared past? Or was it mere lack of interest?  
Embarrassment crept by, somehow spurred by Victor, who was still looking at them in a way Yuuri couldn't describe.

He was almost too embarassed to admit it even to himself, but the thought had never crossed his mind -that Victor would look at him with anything but a fond smile, clear blue eyes brimming with affection. Not because he had no reason to, quite the contrary, Yuuri was well aware of it, but because Victor's core essence was so pure, Yuuri had always thought him incapable of true resentment. And yet, there he was: Victor was looking at him the same way one would look at some unremarkable painting hanging on a wall, his cold eyes barely concealing what was either boredom or downright distaste.

"Shall I start, since you two won't introduce yourselves? Very well then, let's get straight to the point: so you _demand_ to talk to the prince" began Victor matter-of-factly, withgreat emphasis on the demanding aspect of their request.

Yuuri was at a loss. He didn't know how to answer, much less _how_ to. Was he supposed to feign ignorance, much like Victor was so masterfully doing? Was he to apologize? Should he tell him that it had been for the best, that he hadn't meant to hurt him-

"Oi, Victor, cut the crap. You know who we are, you also know why we're here. Stop being a kid and call that prince of yours."

Yuri's biting intervention roused Yuuri from the swirling of thoughts that he was sometimes prey of whenever it came to Victor. He turned towards Yuri, who was already nearing Stage 3 of irritation (Yuuri had assigned a precise scale of measurement to Yuri's rage, which went from Stage 1, mild annoyance, to Stage 6, apocalyptic fury.)  
He looked ready to fight, perhaps sensing the denial that was about to come.

Victor blinked, a look of polite perplexity animating his otherwise stoic features: "I beg you pardon?"

"Oh for fucks sake...Victor, it's important, do you understand? No offence to whatever you're doing here, but we need to talk to the big boss, or whatever his name is."

Victor was displeased at Yuri's choice of words, as was customary with nearly anyone having a conversation with the young boy, but maintained the indifferent approach he had evidently chosen to deal with them.

"I do not know the person you're talking about, the same way I don't know the subject of your request. You will have to tell me, otherwise this encounter will remain fruitless."

Yuri kicked the coffee table in retaliation, only managing to shift the tea cups by some inches. He probably hadn't intended to break the table or anything, he most likely had decided to kick the only thing that was separating him from the person he actually wanted to hit, and that happened to be the poor piece of furniture.

"Go to hell, will you? You're insufferable. It's not about you, if you're still strong enough to fight then fair enough, well sort everything out, but right now we need to take care of some important business, and you're being the usual nuisance-"

Despite the years of distance and the rather disastrous end of their relationship, Yuuri remembered Victor well enough to decipher whatever passed on his mind. Victor was still an open book to him, the way Yuuri hadn't quite managed to be to him. But he'd never seen anything like that on Victor's face.  
For the shortest of moments, something dark appeared on Victor's face, casting a shadow over his graceful features and retreating less than a second later, hiding behind an imperceptible twitch of the jaw.

Victor had looked like he was about to crush Yuri's leg, or Yuri himself.  
Yuuri had never seen Victor even remotely contemplating violence, nor had ever shown any inclinations towards it, both in the face of profound annoyance (which was the closest he would come to rage) or desperation (that, Yuuri had seen.) But he had now.

Victor had wanted, maybe for the briefest of second, to hit them.

After some long, funeral seconds, Victor slowly got up from the velvet empire style sofa, fixing his cuffs with nonchalance, looking alternately at the two of them, seemingly ready to have them discreetly escorted to the door.

A loud bang made them almost jump from their seats, sending the cups flying a short fall to the floor, where they broke in chunks. It had been a movement so sudden, not even Yuri was able to articulate any kind of expletive or protest. Victor was now placing his hands on the small coffee table between the three of them, and was now leaning forward, completely oblivious to the broken cups and the spilled tea. Made uneasy by the position, Yuuri felt Victor was looming over them like a raven with two baby birds, and wasn't sure how inclined he was to further suffocate his ire.

"First of all," he began, voice low and oddly soft, "I truly do not know any Victor. You have mentioned that person from the very beginning of this pointless conversation, and I've been patient enough to listen to your nonsense without sending you out, but you surely must have understood by now that patience is a quality I have not mastered yet, nor do I plan to. But _you_ , you inconsiderate brats, you should really start cultivating some of it, it's too late to even hope to grow a brain. The prince won't listen to you, that I can assure you. Do not bother showing up again, you won't be received. You won't be able to take a step inside this palace, believe me."

***

Lost in his head, barely aware of his surroundings, the only thing Yuuri could think of had nothing to do with the reason of this whole disaster, the thing that had occupied his mind for the last three years: all he got from their encounter with Victor was that that person wasn't Victor at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked this, or even if you didn't, please consider leaving a comment, it means the world! English is not my native language, and although I did my best I hope my mistakes are not too off-putting.


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